


Bunny Calloway Takes The Stage

by softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Locker 98, Original - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We can't all be Taylor Vanguard," Bunny said.</p><p>Well, no. That would be tragic, and also unfair, as Taylor had been working on being Taylor Vanguard for a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunny Calloway Takes The Stage

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Taylor Vanguard Gives It Her All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/90819) by [cest_what](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cest_what/pseuds/cest_what). 



> Based on characters from cest_what's imaginary teeniebopper TV show; this is fanfiction for fanfiction, or maybe original fiction for fanfiction, or -- something. Whatever, this exists, here you go.

"Are you going to try out for cheerleading, Taylor?" Delia asked, and Taylor stopped in the middle of the hall to turn around and give Delia an unimpressed look.

"I can't believe you just asked me that," she said. " _God_. No, Delia, I am not going to try out for the cheerleaders, as I have a little thing I like to call class."

"Tryouts are after class," Delia said helpfully. Taylor resisted the urge to put a despairing hand to her forehead, instead giving Delia a last disdainful look before she turned on her heel and swept away. Behind her, she could hear Eva whispering, "she meant _dignity_ , you know". Taylor should hold tryouts of her own, she thought, so that only people with at least half a brain between them managed to be her friend.

At her side, Meg gave her a small, confidential smile, and Taylor rolled her eyes back at Meg. She liked Meg best: the girl was pretty smart, and she dressed okay, despite her unfortunate fondness for plaid and the small scale national disaster that was her hair, but she was quite content to stay at Taylor's side, laughing at the various judgements Taylor made of their classmates, never trying to win a little bit of the respect Taylor claimed from everybody else. Taylor wasn't completely ridiculous – life wasn't 'Mean Girls' and she knew it – but she did like her place in the hierarchy, and she intended to keep it that way.

"One of these days," Taylor said, "Delia Winters is going to get her foot stuck somewhere, and her sheer incompetence will mean that she'll stay there for the rest of her life."

"Eva, too," Meg said, "coaching her on the best way to lift your foot."

Taylor laughed, and Meg smiled at her again. "Cheerleading," Taylor said, tossing her head. "I mean, really. Who do they think I _am_?"

Meg shrugged. "Cheerleaders are a weird group here," she said. "Bunny _Calloway_ is trying out. Can you believe it?"

Taylor blinked. "Not really," she said.

"She is, though," Meg said. She laughed slightly. "That is, if she manages to get to the gym after school without falling over anything."

"It must be because of Zach Landry," Taylor said. "It's pathetic, really, the way Bunny dances around him. She might as well start somersaulting and cartwheeling to try and get his attention." She paused, cocking her head to the side. "Huh. I suppose she kind of is, now."

"People are saying he's into her," Meg said, and shrugged. "He thinks she's sweet, or whatever."

"Of course he does," Taylor agreed. "Zach has a _complex_ about pathetic people. He collects them, like cats. Look at Mattie. I'm just saying, Calloway doesn't have to go and wave some pompoms about to get his attention, that should be reserved for the truly desperate."

"You're right," Meg said, nodding.

Taylor arched an eyebrow. "Of course I am," she said. "Come on, we have French. If we sit at the back, Mademoiselle totally won't notice my cell."

\---

Taylor felt kind of bad for Bunny Calloway, really. It was clear that the girl lacked any kind of social skills whatsoever; her only saving grace was her looks, because if Bunny was that kind of awkward and ridiculous without her wide, dark eyes, her pretty mouth, the hair that tumbled down her back, her pale arms and the little hollows at the back of her knees – well, anyway, her whole high school experience would be _hell_. It was pure luck that Bunny had managed to get by so far, luck that had gotten Zach Landry's attention, and Taylor was sure that sooner or later, that luck was going to fail Bunny, and everyone would see what a _loser_ she was under the surface.

To add to that, Taylor wasn't sure she knew how to deal with even the _idea_ of Bunny adding cheerleading to her sad little resume. It was actually kind of tragic, that no one had stepped in before now; really, Taylor thought, _really_ she'd be doing Bunny a favour if she put a stop to it. Not that Taylor felt any particular duty to do Bunny favours, but she didn't have anything else to do that afternoon. Maybe she could put it down on college applications as community service.

She waved Meg away after class and slipped by Lance – who had been trying to get her attention the whole day; she'd talk to him sooner or later, nobody had any _patience_ these days – to make her way down to the gym. It was weird, trying to sidle in unnoticed. As a rule, Taylor tried to be noticed all the time, and making her way unobtrusively up to the back row of bleachers felt strange indeed.

The cheerleaders were an entirely different brand of girl to Taylor. Taylor thought they were louder, brasher, unrefined. Taylor wore very short skirts that she chose herself, because she wanted to wear them, not because they were part of a uniform. She didn't understand why Bunny was trying out, not really, even with Zach Landry thrown in – but there she was, smiling and stretching uncertainly below. The head cheerleader – a typically bouncy girl with blonde hair that Taylor did not like at all – came over and spoke to Bunny briefly, putting her hand on Bunny's arm, and Taylor glowered. Bunny was blushing, and the cheerleader wasn't taking her hand away from Bunny's arm, and Bunny didn't seem to care – Taylor wasn't going to take it as a compliment that maybe she had, had shown Bunny where boys could be lacking, if Bunny was going to go after a girl like _that_. Taylor clenched her hands into fists.

The whole practice was really pretty uninteresting. It wasn't anything like the hilarious montages in movies – mostly, they all did some stretches and got taught warm up routines while the cheerleaders walked around them and tried to look important, writing things down on clipboards. Bunny was pretty good, Taylor could admit objectively. Not the best, by far, but certainly not the worst. She moved easily and well, though, and she was spot on the beat the whole time, even when some of the actual cheerleaders lost it.

Taylor realised towards the end in that she had maybe lost concentration, staring blankly at Bunny and not thinking about anything in particular, and she pulled herself upright frowning, trying to work out what the best way to dissuade Bunny from this path of ultimate doom was.

Sitting up straight was a bad idea. Bunny looked straight at her, and Taylor sat frozen for the moment it took Bunny's eyes to widen, mouth falling open a little. Then she stood up straighter and smiled, bright as the sun, raising one hand slightly, and Taylor looked quickly away.

When the cheerleaders pulled everyone aside to give them an earnest pep talk, Taylor stood quietly, picking up her bag and making her way out of the gym. Coming to watch had been a pointless exercise, she thought. Clearly Taylor was never going to have any influence on the countless morons that populated her school; trying to single any of them out was a waste of her time.

"Taylor!" Bunny called, and Taylor stopped, feeling strangely off-balance. She turned around, raised an eyebrow. Bunny was racing across the yard towards her, the strap of her satchel slipping down her shoulder so her bag bumped awkwardly against her leg. She came to an abrupt halt in front of Taylor, panting, and Taylor wrinkled her nose.

"What?" she said.

"I – you were at the tryouts," Bunny said, when she could breathe again. She was half-smiling, quiet and delighted. "I didn't – what were you doing there?"

Taylor hesitated a moment. "I heard you were going."

Bunny's smile widened. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Taylor said. "I wanted to see if it was possible for you to be that stupid. I'm saddened to see it is."

Bunny bit her lip. "You don't like cheerleading?" She twitched slightly, winding a curl around her finger. Who did she even think she _was_ , Taylor thought, staring at her. This wasn't _Pollyanna_. "I wouldn't have guessed that."

"Why does everyone think I like cheerleading?" Taylor demanded. "I don't think I've ever given off that kind of artlessly trashy air, and certainly not any sort of their misguided, puppyish enthusiasm."

The corner of Bunny's mouth twitched. "It's more than that," she said.

"Oh, God," Taylor said. "Please don't give me the school spirit speech."

Bunny shook her head. "No, that's not it," she said. "It's just – it's fun to _do_. It's like dancing and sport combined."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Oh yes," she said. "It must be a blast."

"It's all about holding each other up," Bunny persisted. "It's – it's really fun. And it's like – it's a good way to get to know people, or to – know them more, that kind of – you know, it's—"

"Does it come easier if you're unable to form a coherent sentence?" Taylor asked. "Is that part of the criteria to get on the team?"

Bunny dropped her hand, letting her bag slide to the ground. "Like this," she said quietly, and stepped up behind Taylor, putting her hands on Taylor's hips and holding firm, her long fingers hot and dry through the thin material of Taylor's shirt. Taylor breathed in sharply and regretted wearing low waist jeans; Bunny's fingers were altogether too close for comfort, separated by such flimsy fabric, pressing hard against her bones. Bunny was stronger than she looked, too – there was a moment where she lifted and Taylor almost went, let Bunny pull her up, up towards the sky, back towards Bunny, letting go of her weight. Then she remembered who she was, what was going on, and wrenched forward, out of Bunny's grip.

"Try not to be more of a freak than usual, Bunny Calloway," Taylor said, and set off for her car in a hasty but dignified manner. The stumbling over pavement was dignified, too.

\---

Electives were never what Taylor wanted them to be. When she got to college, she thought, she'd have something interesting to choose from – Art History, maybe (she had a beret that would go _perfect_ ), or Poetry of the Renaissance (something similarly impressive sounding would do, too). She wouldn't get stuck with a choice between climbing up a rope in the gym and the mild pyrotechnics of a senior year home economics class.

Taylor wasn't ashamed to admit that she wasn't particularly good at baking. It wasn't like she'd have any real _need_ for it, in her life – she was going to make a success of herself, in a myriad of ways that she hadn't quite decided upon yet, and then she could pay someone to do her baking for her. Not being able to get her egg whites to peak was not the worst thing in the world.

Across the room, Bunny Calloway had a really distracting spot of flour on her nose. Taylor eyed it narrowly before turning back to her bowl and her whisking, tilting her hip to the side and tossing her hair back so it fell naturally. She was wearing a really pretty cardigan today, vintage and stylish – she looked like someone out of _Mad Men_ only cooler (which went without saying, really). She wasn't anywhere near her best, but she was looking pretty damn good, and when Lance Hughes stopped outside the classroom window and raised a tentative hand to wave at her, Taylor smiled at him, neat and bright.

He raised his eyebrows, tilting his hand and mouthing, _cookies?_ Taylor knew that there was no way to carry an actual conversation through a closed window without looking ridiculous, so she shrugged one shoulder and smiled again, biting her lip and tilting her head to the side, making it intimate despite the space between them. Lance smiled back at her and took his cell out of his pocket. A moment later, Taylor's began to buzz in her pocket. She shook her head, pointing back to where the teacher was helping Diana Wu in the next row of counters.

Lance mouthed, _I'll see you later?_ and Taylor nodded, waggling her fingers in a wave at him.

When she turned back to her egg whites, Bunny was perched on the counter watching her. Taylor started backwards with a bitten-off gasp, hand pressed to her chest, and Bunny grinned. She looked entirely too comfortable, and Taylor narrowed her eyes. She knew for a fact that Bunny's default state wasn't comfortable – not when she was blushing and stumbling through a sentence to Zach Landry, not when she was dark-eyed and trembling at the touch of Taylor's hands, her mouth – and it was just unfair that Bunny thought she could turn all of that around now.

"Hi," Bunny said.

"Oh my God, _what_ ," Taylor said, and Bunny looked down at Taylor's bowl.

"Why are you still whisking your eggs?" she asked.

"They're meant to peak," Taylor said.

"They _are_ peaking," Bunny told her, and Taylor blinked at her.

"What? No, they're not."

Bunny slipped back down the floor, and lifted Taylor's whisk. Some of the egg whites came up with it, and she said, "See?"

Taylor regarded them blankly. "That's peaking?"

Bunny laughed, unexpected and delighted. "Yes!" she said. "What did you think it would be?"

She sounded curious and altogether too fond, and Taylor bristled. "Something more impressive than that," she said.

"Well, there you go," Bunny said.

Taylor huffed a breath out. "Well, thank you, I suppose," she said ungraciously, and Bunny flushed.

"Sure," she said. She wavered for a moment, and Taylor fixed her with a hard stare, the kind that usually made other girls turn and run. Boys, too. Instead, Bunny fiddled with the hem of her blouse and finally said, "What are you making, then?"

"Meringues," Taylor said, "and chocolate biscuits." Bunny cocked her head to the side, an unspoken question, and Taylor said, "I was given the Afternoon Tea theme."

Bunny nodded. "I got Lunch," she said. "I'm making spinach and cheese pastries and a soufflé."

 _I don't care_ , Taylor thought. She said, "Fascinating."

Bunny half-smiled. "Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, then said, "You think you'll be able to do the biscuits on your own?"

"Gosh, yes, somehow I must stumble through the lesson without you, Bunny Calloway," Taylor hissed, affronted, and Bunny laughed.

"You say my full name all the time," she said. "Have you noticed?"

Bunny Calloway was a good name, Taylor thought. It rolled off the tongue nicely. It was perfect to spit or drawl or whisper, eyes wide and dramatic. Taylor wanted to say it all the time. "I can't say I've paid much attention, no," she said.

"Good luck with the cookies," Bunny said. She dipped her fingers very lightly in the packet of flour and flicked them at Taylor, and Taylor gaped at her in disbelief, watching Bunny walk away, the very smallest bounce in her step.

Now Taylor had an annoying spot of flour on her nose, too.

\---

Lance was waiting for her at her table in the cafeteria that lunch, but he wasn't alone. "Hey, Taylor," Zach said, and smiled warm and easy. Mattie was hovering just behind his shoulder, eyeing Taylor unpleasantly. Taylor ignored him and Lance both, stepping forward with a swing in her hips and a rather smug smile.

"Zach Landry," she purred. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Zach grinned at her. "Can we walk for a moment?" he asked. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Taylor turned to Eva, handing over her bag unceremoniously, and said, "I'll be back in a moment. Get me a soda?" Mattie made a scoffing, incredulous sound, and Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Your stray has a fur ball, Zach," she said.

"Oh, stop it," Zach said, and took her elbow lightly, guiding her away. They walked through the cafeteria and out into the quadrangle beyond, walking in slow circles around the red bricks, steering relatively clear of the groups of students scattered around the place.

"So?" Taylor said.

"I was wondering if you knew anything about what's going on with Bunny," Zach said.

Taylor stared at him. "Bunny _Calloway_?" she said. "Why on earth would I know anything about Bunny Calloway?"

"I thought you guys were friends, or something?" Zach raised his eyebrows. "Like you were making up for being such a bitch when she started school here."

"Please never dirty my name like that ever again," Taylor said. "We're not _friends_. We're not even acquaintances. Occasionally, she hovers around my periphery and annoys me."

"I heard that you went to cheerleading tryouts," Zach said. "Which would be normal, except that you didn't actually try for it, just watched."

"Why would me trying out be normal," Taylor said. "This is a _vicious lie_ that is being spread about me, that I like cheerleading—"

"Anyway," Zach said, firmly, "I just – she keeps disappearing on me at the moment, and she seems kind of down. I was wondering if you knew what was up."

"Disappearing on you?" Taylor echoed. There was something cruel and dark growing in her. "Oh wow, is Zach Landry being stood up?"

Zach turned slightly pink, but he looked truthful and steady when he shook his head. Not that that was really very remarkable, actually. Zach was pretty much _programmed_ to look truthful and steady all the time; he was so much of a cliché that it stopped being annoying, and even Taylor found herself unwillingly charmed sometimes.

"It's not like that," Zach said. "I mean, at first, yeah, but after you did – your thing, we talked a bit, and it's, we kind of ended up more friends than anything else. But she keeps – she seems kind of distant at the moment, and I'm worried. I was just wondering if you knew anything."

"I know nothing," Taylor said. "And I care even less." She raised a hand, turning back to walk towards the cafeteria. "This was a weird conversation, Landry. Let's try not to do it too often."

\---

Taylor's father was really into the idea of her, like, topping the school and getting into an Ivy League college where she should top all of her classes _again_ , and then get to the top of a law firm and basically continue in that general theme until she was ruling the world. Taylor was behind the plan in principle, but not so much in the way that her father was really emphatic about her taking lots of serious minded subjects, Calculus included.

Calculus made Taylor's head hurt. They had it first thing in the mornings, too, when Taylor wasn't even properly awake, and she couldn't listen to the teacher talking, so when she went home the newest set of problems made no sense whatsoever. Even though she knew this, too, it was hard to make herself pay attention, and Taylor was having particular trouble with it today, because Bunny looked like she was trying not to cry.

Taylor hadn't noticed, was the thing. Bunny was – maybe more on her radar than she wanted to admit, but Bunny was always smiling or blushing or tripping over her own feet, and around Taylor she was strange and difficult to put in a box properly, flicking flour or touching Taylor with hands that felt like they could burn through Taylor's clothes. It was maybe harder to understand Bunny than Taylor had previously thought. Taylor misjudged everyone, knowingly and cheerfully, but she had never felt like this before, chest twisting painfully while Bunny stared out the window fixedly, mouth turning sharply down. Taylor hadn't noticed, and for the first time, she wished she'd been paying attention.

Class seemed to drag on forever, Mrs Li's voice droning on and on and on in the background, and Taylor bounced her knee under the desk impatiently. She tried to catch Bunny's eye a couple of times, uncertain what she would do, what she _could_ do, but Bunny wasn't looking at her anyway. That pissed Taylor off more than she would have expected.

Finally, the bell for the end of class went and everyone stood up, feet shuffling and chairs scraping, except for Taylor, who sat still in her chair, didn't even close her books. When Bunny came close enough, Taylor grabbed at her wrist, pulled her in close.

"Hello," Bunny said. She sounded resigned.

"What's wrong with _you_?" Taylor asked, then bit her lip. It came out rougher, blunter than she had meant. _A lady has to have finesse,_ she thought. Taylor was good at being subtle. When Bunny had started at the school, that subtlety had been essential, and Taylor wasn't sure where the skill had gone this morning. Possibly it had disappeared with Bunny's smile, which was a disturbing thought.

"Nothing," Bunny said. "I'm tired."

"You look like you're going to _cry_ ," Taylor said, and for a terrifying moment Bunny's mouth wobbled, and Taylor thought she actually was.

Bunny drew in a sharp breath. "No," she said. "I'm really okay."

Taylor glared. "Okay, sure you are," she said. "I just noticed, anyway, you're so obvious, anyone could see—"

"You spent the whole lesson staring at me," Bunny said, sharper than Taylor had ever heard it before. "I think maybe you looked a bit more than _anyone_. Not that you forever messing around with other people's business is a huge surprise."

Taylor stared at her. "I," she said, and stopped. She was still holding onto Bunny's wrist, she realised, and let it go, tucking her hands neatly in her lap. She stared straight ahead of herself. This was why she worked at what she was, Taylor thought. This was why she dressed well, and presented herself well, why she had made sure she was so good at carrying a conversation, at making everybody else in the room want her, in one way or another. If you didn't, if you weren't, you got stuck in conversations where you were small and entirely too obvious, and that was never a good feeling.

"I never get anything done in Calculus anyway," Taylor said, staring ahead of her. "I suck at it. So it doesn't matter."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bunny watching her, but not her expression. Taylor wasn't going to turn back to look.

"You're just messing up with the Quotient Rule," Bunny said, quietly. She leaned across the table and over Taylor's shoulder, breasts pressing warm against Taylor's back. For a moment, Taylor breathed with her. Bunny made a few quick marks on Taylor's workbook in lead pencil, so fast that it seemed like Taylor just blinked and all of a sudden the right answer was staring up at her.

"There," Bunny said, and left before Taylor could catch her hand.

\---

Taylor didn't mean to duck out of the hall and skip her chemistry class in favour of following Bunny Calloway home, but it happened anyway. Bunny was walking quickly across the schoolyard, head down, and Taylor knew for a _fact_ that Bunny was meant to be in her Spanish class just then. She slipped out the other entrance, and wound her way down the block to where she had seen Bunny walking on other days, waiting for Bunny there.

Bunny stopped in her tracks when she came around the corner and saw Taylor, eyes wide. "Taylor," she said. "I. What are you doing?"

"I didn't realise girls like you skipped class," Taylor said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think you put a lot of thought into girls like me at all," Bunny said.

I do, Taylor wanted to say. Yes. I do. She stayed still instead, watching Bunny hook her thumbs under her satchel and keep walking. After a moment, when Bunny had walked all the way past her without looking back – seriously, _what_ – she hurried to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Bunny said.

"It's not even lunch yet," Taylor said.

"I know," Bunny said. "I have some stuff I need to do."

Taylor glared at her, folded her arms. "You're kind of weird, you know?" she said, and Bunny flinched. That made Taylor's stomach roll over, too, sick and ashamed, and for a moment Taylor wondered what had happened to the communicative skills she prided herself on – how she had managed to make Bunny feel bad about herself, probably (if Taylor was being honest), again, when actually she had meant: _how come you're eight different people at once, how does that work_ , and _why do you talk to me and then not talk to me, and how I react appears to make no difference,_ and _what did you think, that time I kissed you, what did you_ really _think_ , and _why haven't you asked me anything about it or ever brought it up, even in a funny way_ , and: _would you like me to do it again? Would you ask me?_

 __"We can't all be Taylor Vanguard," Bunny said.

Well, no. That would be tragic, and also unfair, as Taylor had been working on being Taylor Vanguard for a very long time. Taylor said, "You're alright," and Bunny paused, turning slightly to look at her, brow furrowed.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I wanted to know where you were going," Taylor said. "I just. Why are you going home?"

"There's—"

"Stuff you need to do," Taylor said, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay. Thanks for clearing that one up."

Bunny was fiddling with her hair again, curling her finger round and round in a strand, tugging it a little now and then. "It's kind of complicated," she said.

"I bet you think everything in your sad little life is," Taylor said automatically. "Except for your wardrobe, which is apparently just endless shades of white and pastels." Then she put her hand over her mouth, making a small, apologetic sound, and Bunny stopped completely, turning and staring at her. Taylor stared back, thought, _I really didn't mean to say that_ , but wasn't sure how to say _that_ out loud. Bunny made Taylor's life complicated, too, and Taylor wasn't sure she didn't like it.

Bunny's mouth twitched. "Was that meant to be comforting?" she asked.

"I didn't," Taylor began, and stopped. She stared at Bunny, and Bunny started to laugh. For a moment, it was just this quiet, tired thing, like Bunny was almost too exhausted to make that much sound, but then she started giggling properly and looking back at Taylor and laughing even harder, and eventually she had stumbled to the bench next to the bus stop and sat down, wiping her streaming eyes.

" _You're_ kind of weird," Bunny said, while Taylor stared at her. "Did you know?"

"I'm really, really not," Taylor said.

"You are," Bunny told her. She was smiling again. "You're just sneaky about hiding it, people don't guess." She stood up, came over and linked her arm through Taylor's. "You want to walk with me to my place?"

"I can't think of anything more exciting," Taylor said, a little stiffly, pulling herself up tall, and Bunny smiled down at her. It was absolutely infuriating that Bunny was tall, could make Taylor feel small, easily handled. Bunny's arm was very warm, pressed companionably against her.

"What are you skipping?" Bunny asked her.

"Chemistry," Taylor said.

Bunny raised her eyebrows. "You're taking Chemistry?" she said. "And Calculus? And – you're in Biology too, right? Are you planning to go into a science major or something?"

"I'm keeping my options open," Taylor said. "I'm doing English and French, too, and History. And then I can make a decision properly later on in the year."

"Oh, wow," Bunny said. She smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. "You've got it all planned out. Even the not having a plan bit."

"It's important," Taylor said. "I'm not going to get stuck with some crappy degree and end up in a job that I don't care about. I'm going to do things. And make lots of money, and retire young." She risked a look at Bunny and smiled, very slightly, and Bunny laughed, which was gratifying. Taylor wasn't very used to being funny without being mean.

"I'm going to art school," Bunny said.

"Oh," Taylor said. She looked at Bunny. "Are you any good?"

"Yes," Bunny said. She was watching Taylor very steadily, the way she had looked at Taylor when Taylor had first broken away, had taken a step back, breathing raggedly, after Taylor had said _you'll do_ and before Taylor had gone and pushed her into Zach Landry's path. "I'm good."

"Okay," Taylor said.

Bunny nodded, and they walked down the path quietly. There weren't many cars about – it was the middle of the day, and soon they turned off the main road, winding their way through suburban streets, hedges and mailboxes in dull colours. Taylor half-wanted to say something, but her mouth was dry, and she wasn't very good at starting conversations, she thought, only finishing them. Bunny didn't let go of her arm, though, and she had shifted her hand enough that her fingertips lay on Taylor's wrist, tapping an absent pattern. Taylor thought Bunny was humming under her breath, too, maybe the tune that matched the rhythm, but she couldn't hear well enough to be sure.

Eventually, Bunny stopped in front of a little house, nondescript, exactly like twenty others before it. "This is me," she said. "Thanks for keeping me company."

Taylor nodded, like that was what she had done, rather than following Bunny like a freak and being kind of mean. "Sure," she said. "I'm. I'll see you around, I guess." Bunny nodded, and Taylor stared at her, wanted to reach out and touch, just Bunny's cheek, just wanted to cup her face close again. She hadn't been paying attention properly last time. She wouldn't make that mistake again. Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you – I mean, it's alright, the stuff you've got to do? It's not—"

"My dad's sick," Bunny said. She looked away, face small and solemn. "It's just. It's not really bad. I'm just – I'm not meant to tell anyone."

"Okay," Taylor said. She didn't know what to say. She didn't think she'd ever seen her dad sick. She didn't see her dad very often at all, though – probably he went to his office anyway.

"So," Bunny said. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Well, celebrated as I would be on the school gossip scene for finding out that your dad has the flu," Taylor began, and Bunny laughed again.

"Thank you," she said again, and turned and walked inside. Taylor watched her go, then headed slowly back for school.

\---

Taylor slammed into Mattie in the corridor. It was actually by accident this time, but Mattie was still unsteady on his leg and he toppled over, the files he had been clutching flying everywhere. There was a whole bunch of newspaper clippings in them, and he scrambled around on the floor picking them up, while Taylor folded her arms and watched.

She trapped one clipping beneath her heel – _Confirmed Ghostly Encounters In North-Western Regions At All Time High, Experts Claim_ – and waited until Mattie had stopped by her feet, looking up at her and scowling.

"Finally found your place, darling?" she asked, and Mattie pinched her ankle, sly and fast enough that Taylor gasped, taking a step back automatically. Mattie snatched up the last clipping and stood up, hugging the files to his chest.

"You really need to watch where you're going, Vanguard," he said. "Were you distracted by your reflection in the windows?"

"You're the one impersonating Harriet The Spy or something," Taylor said, glancing at his files in distaste. "What are you _doing_?"

"Nothing," Mattie snapped. He pushed his hand through his hair, eyes dark. "Have you seen Zach?"

"Oh, Mattie," Taylor said. "The puppy love really has to stop. You know you're just a novelty, right? Some pathetic little scrap who's just interesting enough to keep around until something shinier comes along. People like you are never going to hang around very long."

"Zach's not as obsessed with appearances as you," Mattie snapped, flushing. "He actually likes me, just like he likes Bunny Calloway—"

"Oh, please," Taylor said, even as she resolved to hunt Zach Landry down and work out exactly what his goddamn intentions _were_ about Bunny Calloway. If he would just make up his mind, Taylor would appreciate it, so that she could in turn decide whether she was going to let him go on his merry little way or destroy his life. "Bunny Calloway is just another example of—"

"Hi, Taylor," Bunny said, walking past and Taylor stopped, swallowed hard. Bunny raised a hand and waved at her, smiling, before she walked past. Taylor had forgotten how to make her mouth work properly; couldn't smile back, couldn't talk.

"Bunny!" she said, and Bunny doubled back, still smiling at her. Taylor breathed in. "Is your—" she tried, and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

"A bit better," Bunny said. She grimaced. "For certain definitions of the word." She touched Taylor's arm swiftly. "I have to go to class, but I'll – I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Taylor said, and Bunny bit her lip and smiled, before she went back on her way.

"I'm sorry," Mattie said. When Taylor looked back at him, he was smirking. "What were you saying?"

Taylor had no idea.

\---

'Later' turned out to be after classes were over for the day, when Taylor was walking up to her locker. She'd gotten stuck with one of the more annoyingly located ones that year, right up at the top level of the school, and even the fact that it was larger for most didn't make up for the fact that it was scratched and spattered with inexplicable paint. Taylor opened it up and started to take out the books she'd need for homework that night, and then Bunny said her name.

Bunny was standing in the doorway behind Taylor, grinning. She was wearing a huge flannel shirt, way too big for her, with the sleeves rolled up, and her hands were covered in a bright pattern of multicoloured dots. "Taylor," Bunny said again.

"Hey," Taylor said, frowning. "What are you _wearing_?"

"I'm doing some extra work on my art assignment," Bunny said, gesturing behind her, which was apparently the art room. Huh. Taylor supposed that her vandalized locker made a sort of sense after all. "Are you going home?"

"That's the plan," Taylor said. She closed her locker, twisting the combination lock back into place.

Bunny's cheeks were slightly pink. "You want to come in here?" she said. "I can. I mean, you could give me some advice on this painting. I'm going to use it for my portfolio, so if you had any – I'd appreciate it."

Taylor hesitated. Then she nodded, picking up her bag and following Bunny into the workroom. There were canvases and sketchbooks and sculptures everywhere, done with varying degrees of talent, but Bunny led her through the mess of most of the class towards the back, where Bunny had a wooden easel set up, and a big canvas propped up on it. At first, it looked just like a mess of colours, and Taylor squinted at it until she realised that it was a forest, trees growing up green and twisted, the forest floor a mess of leaves and roots and shadows, the highest branches stretching all the way up to the top of the canvas.

"Oh," Taylor said. She thought about the maths that she didn't understand, the science that she did – she thought about how good her French accent was since her dad had taken her on a tour of the countryside last summer, how she had a good ear for things like that and she was better than nearly everyone in the class, now. Taylor knew what she was good at, and she knew that there were things she was very good at, but she had never made something like Bunny's painting, and she was suddenly jealous and embarrassed all at once.

Bunny bit her lip. "There's something wrong with it," she said.

"It's really good," Taylor said, because there wasn't a bitchy response she could come up with that would be good enough to counter the painting.

"Thank you," Bunny said, and she looked pleased. "But all the same, it's—"

"I think you need sunlight," Taylor said suddenly, and once she had said it, she could see it, the odd patterning of the leaves at the top, the thing that had kept it from immediately becoming a clear, true picture. She'd liked the way the trees melted out of the mess, but some of the mess still remained, and Taylor traced her finger across the sky, marking out the path of the sun. "There."

"Oh," Bunny said, and beamed. "You're right, yes. Thank you." Taylor nodded, still staring at it. "Feel like hanging around for a while until I'm done?" Bunny asked, sounding hesitant. Taylor glanced at her in surprise. "We could go – get a milkshake or something."

"A milkshake," Taylor echoed, rolling her eyes. "God, it's like you're from the Girl Guide Handbook or something." Bunny's cheeks were pink, suddenly or still, and Taylor said, "Yes, okay. Hurry up."

"Alright," Bunny said, and picked up her brush and palette – which was an ice cream container lid, Taylor noticed, rolling her eyes – to turn back to the painting.

Taylor watched her for a while, Bunny's deft strokes, the way she added paint seemingly recklessly, so that Taylor was sure she'd ruined the whole thing, until she could see it blending and shaping the painting. After a while, though, Taylor stopped watching Bunny paint and started looking at the way Bunny had screwed her nose up a little, the way she was biting her lip, and that probably wasn't such a good idea. She dragged her eyes away hurriedly and turned to wander through the art room.

She'd never taken art, only music, and it was kind of cool to explore a place like this, trailing her fingers over the wooden worktables, looking at the things her classmates had made. There was a really frightening one in oils, a girl standing in front of a dark house, with her hair all falling behind her, face white and terrified, and shadowy fingers grabbing at her ankles, the moonlight falling over her outstretched arms so as to bind them with silver chains. When Taylor leaned forward, she caught sight of a face pressed to a window behind the girl, white and familiar, and she was almost unsurprised when she saw Mattie's signature tucked away in the bottom of the painting.

She walked on past. The art room was quiet and smelled weirdly nice, paint and charcoal and glue and dust, and Taylor could see why Bunny wouldn't mind staying back after school to do this, sitting quiet in the room and not having to talk or do much of anything at all. Bunny was working, obviously, but still. Taylor was a little jealous. She wondered if you were allowed up here even if you didn't take art.

There was a black sketchbook on the table next to Bunny's easel with _Bunny Calloway_ written in curly script across the front. "Is this your sketchbook?" Taylor asked, rather obviously. "Can I look?"

Bunny took a moment to answer, voice faraway. "Mmmn."

Taylor flipped it open. There were a lot of trees at the beginning, done easily in pencil, and Taylor recognised certain angles, certain branches from the painting Bunny was working on now. Bunny had taken the sketchbook out with her on some trip, Taylor figured – there were bits of countryside that Taylor recognised as being reasonably close to the city, and a sketch of the view from the top of the hill of a park nearby.

As she flipped on through, there were more detailed, loving sketches of an older man, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes, a permanent frown coupled incongruously with a smiling mouth. He looked familiar enough that Taylor didn't need the tiny inked **DAD** down the bottom, and she stopped for a long moment to stare at him, wonder exactly what the deal was with him and Bunny. If she asked, she suspected that Bunny might tell her, which was a bit of a frightening thought all on its own.

She turned to the next page, and stopped. Her own face was staring back at her, chin tipped up in a challenging way, eyes dark and fierce. It was roughly done, but unmistakeable, hair falling away from her face. There were another two in opposite corners – Taylor with her hand on her hip, expression not properly drawn in but pose full of bitchy self-righteousness, and then Taylor measuring a test tube, holding it up to the light and squinting.

Taylor turned again, and it was more of her. The sketches were hasty – Taylor had never sat for Bunny long enough, she thought numbly, not properly – but so good, so true, and Taylor's heart was stuck in her throat. In one of the pictures, she was wearing high denim shorts and a shirt that she recognised, and her mouth was drawn more heavily than usual, so that it wasn't hard to imagine the red, how swollen Taylor's mouth had been. In that picture, Taylor's eyes were dark and she was leaning in, hand half stretched out, and Taylor knew what Bunny had been sketching, knew exactly what moment Bunny had paused forever and caught on the page. She was jealous of that, too.

"You're being terrifyingly quiet," Bunny said, and Taylor whirled around. Bunny put her paintbrush down, coming smiling towards her, and then she looked over Taylor's shoulder at the sketchbook and froze. "Oh," she said. "Oh, I."

"You've been drawing me," Taylor said.

"I," Bunny stuttered, stumbling over her words again like Taylor was more used to, the way Bunny had when she had spilled coffee on Zach Landry that day, oh _god_ — "I, just, I just wanted to—"

Bunny stopped, and Taylor stared at her. "You what?" she said.

Bunny's mouth twisted down. "Come on," she said. "You've always, you always tell me how obvious I am, don't, don't pretend it's a surprise—"

"You're obvious with _Zach_ ," Taylor said. "You. That's what you do, you get all stupid and pathetic, you don't – you don't freak people _out_."

"I know," Bunny said. "I'm. I wasn't freaking anybody out – wait, what, Taylor? You?"

"You're not meant to be like this!" Taylor said. She felt a little hysterical. "I didn't know what you wanted! I thought—"

"I like you," Bunny blurted out.

"Yes!" Taylor said. "That you thought I – me telling Zach that it was my fault was an overture of, of whatever, that you wanted us to be friends and—"

"No," Bunny said. She was blushing fiercely now. "No, I never wanted to be friends. Not really." Taylor swallowed, licking her lips, and watched Bunny's eyes drop to her mouth, and then drag back up to meet Taylor's gaze. Bunny said, "You're not very nice, you see."

"I don't need to be nice," Taylor said.

"Apparently not," Bunny said. She bit her lip. "You're acting different than I thought."

"I don't know how to act around you," Taylor admitted. "I think I messed things up."

Bunny breathed in. "When?"

"A while ago," Taylor said. "When I taught you – when I taught you how to kiss for fucking _Zach Landry_."

Bunny was smiling, small and frightened and hopeful. "Yeah?" she said.

"Yes," Taylor said. "I bet he's not any good at it, anyway."

"You set a high standard," Bunny said.

"You'll waste it on him," Taylor said, and Bunny leaned in and Taylor met her halfway. Taylor didn't feel anywhere near as sure as she had before, not nearly as in control, with Bunny pressing her back against the worktable, taller than her. It was better too, though, and Bunny's mouth was just as hot as Taylor remembered, her hair just as soft when Taylor twisted her hands in it and pulled Bunny in, closer, licked her way into Bunny's mouth and didn't bother with setting a pace, didn't move back to give commentary on the whole thing, just closed her eyes and kept Bunny close.

"You're pulling my hair," Bunny whispered against her mouth, and used her own hands to disentangle Taylor. Taylor let go reluctantly, and Bunny clasped their hands together, entwining their fingers, and Taylor dug her nails a little into Bunny's hands, just to be sure she was there, just to be sure she wasn't going anywhere. Taylor didn't like people leaving without giving her a chance to get the last word. Bunny pressed her leg in between Taylor's, and Taylor leaned back, elbows propping herself up on the worktable, Bunny warm all up against her, and all the sketches of Taylor at her back, all of Bunny's work and observance. Taylor was stupidly grateful that she hadn't been the only one looking.

When Bunny broke away, her eyes were wide and she was smiling like she couldn't help it, mouth bitten red, face all lit up. "Oh, Taylor," she said, soft, and Taylor stared at her, couldn't think of a single thing she particularly wanted to say. Bunny could say it all, and Taylor would sit back and let her.

"You want to come and get a milkshake with me?" Bunny asked.

Her hands were so warm in Taylor's. When Taylor looked down, both of their hands were smeared with paint, green and yellow and blue and red dotting up her white hands and over her carefully manicured nails. "Yes," Taylor said, "I want to do that."


End file.
